


On the Phone (yeah, you talk real slow)

by IMaketheMonsters



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Drunk Dial, F/F, F/M, I swear a lot so they do too, M/M, Random shennanigans, literally a crack fic don't @ me for my writing chops, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29986485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMaketheMonsters/pseuds/IMaketheMonsters
Summary: Saturday nights are for sangria, sandwiches, and drunk dialing your ex boyfriend to give him a piece of your mind.OR: The Wrong Number!AU that Kassandra and I specifically asked for
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Flynn/Carrie Wilson, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 171





	On the Phone (yeah, you talk real slow)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, DISCLAIMER: This is literally a crack fic written between the hours of 3 and 6AM last night lmao. If you're new here please don't judge my writing based off of this one piece. If you're looking for some quality(ish) content, I highly recommend you check out Tis the Damn Season. She's my baby and I'm very proud of her.
> 
> Anyway, this whole thing was inspired by the fact that Kassandra (@gillespie-s on tumblr) texted me on Monday night drunk as hell and apparently also drunk dialed a bunch of exes while watching Percy Jackson with her roommate lmao. She lets me write stories based off of the (strangely always fic-worthy) anecdotes of her life.
> 
> I highly recommend you go follow her, she is absolutely hilarious and has a cat named Jupiter that is my literal godchild I love nothing else more.

Honestly, Flynn’s first mistake was that she let Julie keep her phone in the first place. Granted, Julie’s never been the type to make rash decisions, but she’s three full glasses into the vat of sangria that’s been left in the kitchen of their tiny LA apartment, and everyone knows that being wine-drunk with a broken heart is a whole different kind of experience.

“Hey Flynnnnn,” she sings with her best impression of Jennifer Hudson’s one giant riff in “I Am Telling You I’m Not Going”. It’s a little muddy at the end there, but she slammed a couple vodka shots right before her Vocal Performance final last semester and she fucking nailed this song, so alcohol clearly has no effect on her singing ability.

Probably. She’s a little dizzy right now, but she’s fine.

“Flynn, if you don’t finish calling your girlfriend right now I’m going to watch Percy Jackson choke a white boy to death with a trident without you,” she calls. The muffled, _“Bitch!”_ that rings through the dividing wall confirms that Flynn is, in fact, still alive.

She takes another sip of sangria from where she’s sprawled out on couch in the living room under the mountain of blankets and pillows they’ve compiled, digging through the mass of cushions for her phone while she waits.

Maybe Nick will give her attention. He sent a meme to the group chat last week, which was just fucking _rude_ , because even though the chat is being used to keep in touch by seven other people from their first year Chem Lab, his now-ex girlfriend is still in it and maybe he shouldn’t be existing in a chat that she’s still in when he has a new girlfriend? It’s basic etiquette and he should know that.

She pulls up the dial pad with clumsy fingers, because even though Flynn made her delete his contact information when he dumped her last month, it’s hard not to know someone’s number by heart when they’ve been your emergency contact for the last three years.

Was it 8-3-5-5 or 8-3-5-4? It doesn’t matter. Her finger hovers over the screen for a moment before it lands on the 4, and she takes another sip from her glass as the sound of the dial tone fills her ear.

“Hello?” The answering party is muffled by the pumping bass of what sounds like EDM in the background.

Is he at a party? He’s probably at a party. It’s a Saturday night and he’s at a party with his new girlfriend, and she’s drunk on her couch at home watching Percy Jackson with her sympathetic roommate.

“Hey, Nick, it’s Julie, ‘n I just called to tell you I think you’re a piece of shit,” she spits. Huh. Her words are definitely slurring a bit. Maybe she should slow down? She can’t very well tell him off if he thinks she’s drunk, after all.

It takes her a second to balance the glass on the coffee table in her current position, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration, but she successfully manages not to spill a drop. Flynn would be proud.

“Um,” the voice on the end is startled, smooth, and decidedly _not_ Nick’s. “I’m sure he is. But I think you have the wrong number. Sorry.”

Ah. “Fuck,” she mutters, and she isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or her shit luck (because how pathetic is it that she’s drunk dialling her ex boyfriend and she can’t even remember his number properly so she can chew him out?), but the fuzzy warmth that had earlier encompassed her body has now given way to a tingling numbness in her face, and there are salty tears dripping down the end of her nose and slipping their way into the crevice of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers into the phone, “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry.”

“Are you _crying?_ Fuck, okay, hold on— _Reg!_ I’ll be right—yeah, I got a phone call! Okay, whate—” there’s some shuffling on the other end, and then the music is cut off abruptly by the sound of a heavy door slamming. “Sorry about that,” Not-Nick says breathlessly, “I’m at my friend’s bachelor party and it’s loud as fuck in there. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles. “I must’ve just typed in the number wrong. I don’t want to bother you.”

Not-Nick chuckles. It’s a nice sound, low and husky and warm. “It’s all good, I was actually looking for an excuse to escape anyway. Parties with tons of people I don’t really know aren’t usually my thing.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. Nick always liked dragging her to events with his frat buddies, who, as one might assume, were all obnoxious and full of so much toxic masculinity it made her skin crawl.

“Anyway, you sound drunk. Do you need me to call a friend for you? Or a cab? Are you out by yourself?” The concern in his voice makes her smile. It’s funny, how a stranger can give more of a fuck about you in five minutes than an asshole can in three years.

The last time she was drunk and crying, on the five year anniversary of her mother’s death, Nick had patted her on the back, dropped some takeout at her house and headed off to a Rush Week party. It was apparently part of his “Responsibilities of Brotherhood”.

What a load of bull.

“No, I’m home,” she tells Nice-Stranger, the tears from earlier forgotten in the easy flow of conversation. “My roommate’s on the phone with her girlfriend, so I decided to commit the ultimate drunk cliché and call my shitty ex.”

He groans sympathetically. “Been there, done that. It was really embarrassing, actually. Be glad you got the wrong number.”

She giggles, “What happened?”

“It was actually the guy we’re throwing a bachelor party for. He’s one of my best friends, and we used to date a few years back, in like, high school. I got wasted at his engagement party last year and ended up calling him when I got home. I don’t even remember doing it, but apparently I told him I was happy for him but that it didn’t mean I was happy to give up the privilege of staring at his ass, or something.”

She gasps, “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“How did his fiancé take it?”

“Oh, I got really lucky there,” Nice-Stranger laughs, “Willie and I are buddies. He’s a super chill guy, so he makes fun of me for it more than anyone else.”

“Your friends sound nice,” she says wistfully.

“They are,” he agrees. “I trust them enough to have veto power over my life, so that’s saying something.”

“Veto power?”

“Yeah, like with relationships and stuff. You gotta trust your friends to have your back, right?”

“Oh, definitely. Although my roommate and her girlfriend just kind of scream at me whenever I date someone they hate, which is fair.”

“Honestly not a bad strategy.”

“Yeah,” she snickers. “Do your friends veto people a lot?”

“They vetoed my last girlfriend. She was really pretty, but also kind of a bitch, so I don’t blame them.”

“Girlfriend?”

There’s a pause. “Yeah,” she can practically hear him shrugging. “I’m not really picky about that stuff.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Me neither.”

“Oh, sick!” This time she’s sure she isn’t imagining the relief that colours his tone. She gets it. Nick was always a little judgemental. Heteronormativity, and all that.

“So why is your ex a piece of shit?”

Oh boy. “ _Oh, boy,”_ she smacks the pillow in front of her with the flat of her hand for emphasis. “Okay, get ready. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” She doesn’t know what Nice-Stranger looks like, but she can hear him grinning through the phone.

“So _first of all_ , he’s a frat boy,” she starts.

“Disgusting.”

“Right?!” she shrieks. “He left me for the TA of the Calc class we took last year, which makes sense because he’s about as dumb as a bag of fucking rocks and until he dumped me I had no idea how or why he managed to pass it.”

“The _fuck?_ ”

“I _know!_ ”

“Dude, that’s fucking shitty. He’s a piece of shit.”

“I told you. That’s why I tried to call him.”

“Dude, _I_ want to call him.”

“I wish,” she mutters, snagging her drink off of the coffee table to take another long sip.

“Julie!” Her roommate pokes her head around the corner with her phone still pressed to her ear, her cheeks flushed rosy under the blue glow of the screen (although Julie isn’t sure if that’s from the girlfriend or the sangria). “Are you on the phone right now?”

“Maybe,” Julie retorts, withdrawing back into the couch as if the fortress of blankets around her can somehow protect Nice-Stranger on the other end of the line.

“Carrie says if you’re talking to Nick she’ll ditch her cousin’s birthday party to come kick your ass.”

“It’s not Nick! Hey—” she presses the phone back to her ear, “What’s your name again?”

“It’s Luke,” Nice-Stranger-Named-Luke laughs, and _fuck_ , she might be super drunk right now but she’s pretty sure that even Sober Julie would agree that a laugh that sexy should be illegal. “I’m talking to Luke,” she announces instead, because even Drunk Julie is too shy to say out loud that she finds a complete stranger sexy.

Flynn’s jaw drops. “Luke Castellan?” She whispers reverently. “From _that_?” she points aggressively at the TV, where Percy and Luke have been frozen above the Empire State building for the last half hour.

Luke-on-the-Phone is laughing his ass off now, clearly having heard Flynn’s voice through the receiver. “Luke Patterson,” he tells Julie, who relays this information solemnly to her best friend. Flynn is now bracing herself against the wall in an effort to stay standing.

Julie’s starting to think that maybe making a double batch of sangria for a group of exactly two people might not have been Flynn’s best idea, but she’s willing to wait till the morning to worry about it.

“Tell Luke Patterson that if he breaks your heart I’ll hurt him,” Flynn growls. “Both physically and emotionally. And spiritually. I’ll fuck him up.”

“Tell Flynn I have absolutely no intention of breaking your heart,” Luke says, and the fondness in his tone sends her heart skipping in her chest.

Flynn nods, pointing her fingers at Julie’s phone in her most serious “I’m watching you” gesture, and then disappears around the corner back into her bedroom.

“Sorry,” Julie giggles once she’s gone and the house is relatively quiet again.

“It’s all good,” Luke tells her easily. “So, _Julie_ ,” and this time she doesn’t even bother pretending that the alcohol is the only reason her face is the colour of a stop sign as her name rolls off his tongue, “I might have to get going. I’m the designated driver for my friends tonight, and I have to make sure the groom makes it to his wedding tomorrow night alive.”

“Oh.” She can’t hide the disappointment in her voice. Call it a drunk girl’s intuition, but she’s not quite ready to say goodbye to Nice Luke just yet. “It’s all good. It was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah! Same here,” Luke hesitates for a moment before adding quickly, “If you want, we could talk again? Maybe hang out some time?”

“I’d love to,” she tells him warmly, and the grin that creeps across her face stretches so wide it nearly hurts.

“Okay! That’s awesome! I, uh, I’ll call you later then.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

She waits until she’s sure the line is dead before she chucks her phone at the other end of the couch and drops her face into her hands, grinning all the while.

**Sunday, March 11, 2021. 10:00AM.**

**From: Luke Patterson! :)**

_Hey_

_It’s Luke_

_How are you feeling? Lol_

**From: Julie Molina’s iPhone**

_Hey :) I’m hungover as hell, but I’ll survive_

_There’s no headache like a wine headache, tho_

_How was the rest of your night?_

**From: Luke Patterson! :)**

_Yikes :/_

_Did you end up eating before you went to bed?_

_It was great! Got Alex home safe and sound, so it looks like he’s still getting married tonight_

**From: Julie Molina’s iPhone**

_Yeah, I think Flynn made sandwiches?_

_I literally woke up cuddling a piece of bread LMAO_

_Good for him. He and his nice butt deserve happiness_

**From: Luke Patterson! :)**

_Oh, god_

_Not you too_

_PLEASE let it go. Willie brings it up every time I see him_

**From: Julie Molina’s iPhone**

_I’m sorry :D_

_I deeply apologize. I’ll spend the next ten years of my life making it up to you_

**From: Luke Patterson! :)**

_OR_

_You could come with me to breakfast right now instead :)_

_I’ll buy you pancakes_

**From: Julie Molina’s iPhone**

_You had me at pancakes._

_…. Just so we’re clear_

_I have absolutely no intention of breaking your heart, either._

**From: Luke Patterson! :)**

_It’s a promise :)_

**Author's Note:**

> Lol sorry if the tone of voice sounds insane in this one, that is both how I think when I am drunk and also how I felt last night while writing it- sleep deprived and maniacally loopy. I also did not really check this for grammar or quality so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Hope this brightened your day! Drop me a comment telling me what you thought, or if you've had any similar drunk dial experiences lol.
> 
> See you next time!


End file.
